


Cheap Thrills

by emeraldcitydowntowngirl



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Pete, Crossdressing, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Top Patrick, and there isnt much smut, folie era, it's sort of all over the place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:38:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6193696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldcitydowntowngirl/pseuds/emeraldcitydowntowngirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Such a slut” Patrick mutters before biting down on the skin- Pete cries above him, gripping Patrick’s shoulder tighter. “<i>Fuck<i>, fuck yes, I’m your slut, I love you”</i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Patrick doesn’t say it back, and Pete knows that he loves him too, knows that Patrick wouldn’t invest himself in this relationship if he weren’t, but he wishes so hard that Patrick would just say it back that he has to blink back tears (he could also blame it on how bruising this all feels- he can already feel purple marks forming from where Patrick’s fingers are pressing in, guiding his hips and controlling the pace although Pete’s on top)</i>
  </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheap Thrills

Patrick has been in a bad mood since they started recording Folie à Deux- it’s only been 3 weeks, but Pete can _see_ the tension in his shoulders, and the way that his voice strains to hit notes he can’t hit. He watches as Patrick steadily kicks people out of the studio (the other day he told Joe to “get the fuck out”- Joe punched him square in the face and called him an asshole. It’s hard to believe that these two are best friends, or were anyways.). He watches as Andy, the calmest out of all 4 of them, throws his drum sticks and tells Patrick that he can do it himself since "he keeps fucking up" (Andy wasn’t messing up- Patrick was just a perfectionist)

One day, Pete doesn’t even show up in the studio. He stays in bed all day, reading with Patrick's reading glasses on, with Patrick’s boxers on, and at one point, he slips on Patrick’s shirt, and buries his nose in it because Patrick’s been coming home so late at night that he hardly has time to spend with him anymore. He sort of misses when Patrick would humor him, and when they would fuck lazily at 4 in the morning just because one of them was horny and woke up. Now, Patrick’s just so busy creating an album that should be a group process- it doesn’t matter, it’s going to be a hit.

* * *

 

“We’re going to be late” Patrick mutters in Pete’s direction- Pete’s straightening his hair over his eyes, smothering his curls. He’d joke about it and come up with a shitty metaphor if he had the energy to do it. He puts on make-up just because he thinks it’ll spark Patrick’s attention more, make him notice Pete more, but Patrick just sees it as a waste of time now.

“Then go without me” The older one replies, looking at Patrick in the mirror. Pete looks tired enough, he was up all night writing and worrying about nonsensical things , but Patrick almost looks worse. His eyes are sunken in, and are filled with anger just from staying up so late. He’s overworking himself, but he’s Patrick, and once he says he’s going to do something, he does it. And he makes it perfect.

“Then how are you going to get there?” Patrick snaps at him, his fists clenching although he’d never hit Pete now, not while they’re dating. Pete watches as he unclenches them, and he turns around so that he’s facing him, and not the mirror. He’s hardly wearing anything- just a pair of his Clandestine briefs. Patrick’d pin him up against the wall and fuck him if they weren’t already running late, and they haven’t fucked in so long that he’s not sure if he even remembers how to (it’s an exaggeration, but Patrick wouldn’t be surprised)

“Take my car and drive?” Pete says, in a questioning tone although it’s the most logical response- they have tons of cars, they’re fucking millionaires. But he always rides with Patrick- they mostly sit in silence, save for the soft murmur of Elvis Costello on the speakers, but it’s so comforting in a way that he’d never understand 4 years ago. He guesses that’s what 30 feels like.  

Patrick gapes at him, like he’s forgotten that Pete can actually drive, like he’s forgotten they have more than just his car. He closes his mouth when Pete looks away from him to return to applying some eyeliner under his eyes, smudging it. Pete’s so pretty sometimes it takes his breath away- sometimes, anyways. He just walks out of their room, slamming the door behind him.

When Patrick leaves, Pete’s shoulders slump. He just wants to be noticed again, because that’s just how he is, he wants to be looked at and praised, and he wants  people to fucking notice him, especially his own boyfriend. Tears spring at his eyes before he can stop them, and he laughs tearfully at himself in the mirror at how pathetic this all is. But in the end, he likes the way that the tears smudge his make-up.

* * *

 

Pete’s quiet at the studio, doodling in his notebook as he listens to Patrick yell at yet another assistant. He gives them a sympathetic look as they scurry out of the room, and he sighs heavily “You don’t have to scare them like that” 

Patrick looks over to Pete like he didn’t even know he was there in the first place. He’s small, curled up in a chair, and his notebook is resting on his thigh. He looks at Patrick through his bangs, sees the frustration set in his jaw “They weren’t doing it right in the first place”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to…” He trails off, shaking his head “Whatever. Sorry I interrupted you”

Patrick looks away, not saying anything, and Pete lets out a strangled sound, something deep from his throat. Fuck, he wishes it weren’t like this anymore, he wishes they were like how they used to be. And he knows Patrick heard, because he turns his head to look at him from his seat across the room. But he doesn’t say anything about that either, just gives him a tired look. Pete misses Joe and Andy, and he misses Gabe and Dirty and Travie, but they’re all busy, or trying to avoid Patrick. Pete sort of doesn’t blame them, but he’s so in love with Patrick that he hates them for it, just a little.

* * *

“I love you” Pete says tenderly, although he doesn’t have to. The way that Patrick’s thrusting up in him, fast and hard, and the way that he’d grinding his hips down, he doesn’t have to be quiet. He’s almost naked, but he’s wearing a pair of black, lacy panties. It’s sort of sad that that was what caught Patrick’s attention, a simple eyebrow raise when he pushed down Pete’s jeans, but he doesn’t care, Patrick’s buried so deep in him that he can see stars.

The lacy material is pushed over, so that Patrick could fuck him in it, and he feels sort of slutty and disgusting, but _who fucking cares._ Patrick’s naked, leaning against the headboard, hands resting on Pete’s fragile hipbones, and he pulls him in for long, breathless kisses.

“I love you, Patrick” Pete’s voice breaks as he throws his head back once Patrick hits his prostate. Patrick’s so big and thick in him it hurts, they barely used lube, because Patrick threw him on the bed the second he felt the material of the panties. Pete’s idea worked, but he wished that it was more gentle and sincere than this. Patrick’s mouthing against his thorn necklace, grunting as he listens to Pete’s broken off moans

“Such a slut” Patrick mutters before biting down on the skin- Pete cries above him, gripping Patrick’s shoulder tighter. “ _Fuck_ , fuck yes, I’m your slut, I love you”

Patrick doesn’t say it back, and Pete knows that he loves him too, knows that Patrick wouldn’t invest himself in this relationship if he weren’t, but he wishes so hard that Patrick would just say it back that he has to blink back tears (he could also blame it on how bruising this all feels- he can already feel purple marks forming from where Patrick’s fingers are pressing in, guiding his hips and controlling the pace although Pete’s on top).

Pete’s cock is untouched between the two of them, and Patrick notices this- when he wraps a fist loosely around it, Pete wails. “Touch me, fuck me harder, come on, _come on_ ” Patrick rolls his eyes, running his thumb over the head, where there’s already pre-come. He brings it to Pete’s mouth and just rubs it over his lips, watching with dark eyes as Pete licks them, and he brings his hand up further to pull on Pete’s bangs.

“Don’t tell me what to do” He says, glaring, and Pete nods as best as he can, stammering out as a tear falls down his face from the feeling of Patrick pulling his hair “Yes, oh God”. But Patrick does what Pete wants anyways, bringing his hand back down to Pete’s cock. In just a few strokes, Pete comes over Patrick’s fist with a long-drawn out moan.

Patrick is quick to flip them over, hardly giving Pete enough time to come down from his high before he thrusts back in. The angle is different, and he’s balls-deep in Pete, and it’s enough for Pete to start crying for real, over-stimulated and feeling used. Patrick stills, blinking down at Pete like he’s unsure if what he’s seeing is for real “Are you… _crying_?”

“No! Come on, harder” Pete’s voice breaks again, and he turns his head against the pillow as he wraps his ankles around Patrick’s waist. But Patrick pulls out, eyes full of concern “Pete-“

“No, _fuck_ , get back here” He turns his head to start begging, because he wants to feel Patrick again, doesn’t want him to go away, doesn’t want him to ignore him anymore.

“I’m not going anywhere” Patrick whispers, his hard-on for the most part gone, since this isn’t hot anymore, Pete crying isn’t _hot_ when he’s crying for a whole different reason.

“Is it because of what I said, fuck, I thought that… I thought you liked-“ Patrick stammers out, running it through his head, although he’s tired as hell. He just remembers Pete moaning and throwing his head back and gripping his shoulders and begging him to keep going.

At this point, Pete has face covered, and he’s almost sobbing “I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_ , I just want you to love me again” He’s turned in on himself, his back turned away from Patrick, and he shrinks away from Patrick’s touch when Patrick rests his hand on his hips. Those words hit Patrick hard, stabbing him through his chest. _Love him again?_

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop, fuck, I’m ruining your night, I’m ruining your night and you didn’t even get to come and-“ He hiccups, unable to stop himself. Once he starts something, much like Patrick, it’s hard for him to stop.

“Pete, I love you, I love you more than you’ll ever know, please, just _look_ at me” Pete hesitantly turns to face Patrick, because hearing him say the words “I love you” feels like fucking heaven. He’s aware of how he looks now, with his eyeliner all over his eyes and his nose is running and when he looks into Patrick’s eyes, he buries his head in his pillow. No one that beautiful should have to look at him.

Patrick and Pete could read each other like books practically, but Patrick has no idea what is happening right now, and that thought scares him so bad- the fact that Pete is sobbing in his pillow, his hands gripping the pillow tight is so frightening that Patrick almost starts crying too. He wipes his hands of Pete’s come, now drying uncomfortably on his fist, and he throws an arm over Pete’s side, pulling himself closer to Pete so that they’re almost pressed flush against each other- Patrick’s still naked, but neither of them pay attention to that

“Pete, I love you” He whispers against Pete’s neck, letting out a shaky breath. “I love you, I love you, I’m sorry that I made you ever think otherwise, I love you”

“You-“ Pete hiccups, lifting his head off the pillow, so that he can look at Patrick, before starting his sentence again “You kept… kept ignoring me. And I thought I wasn’t good enough for you anymore. Thought you got tired of… of me being boring” He laughs, but it’s wet and heart-wrenching “I’m not fun to be around anymore. I thought you got bored”

Again, it makes Patrick want to cry, but this isn’t about him right now, so he cradles Pete’s face with one hand, whispering “I love you forever, Pete. Everyone is so fucking stressed right now and I didn’t know what I was doing, but I never want you forget how much I love you. I love all of you, I don’t care that you’re… _quote unquote_ boring right now, I don’t care, I practically need you more than you need me” He takes a deep breath “You keep me stable. You keep me from murdering everyone in the studio, and you keep me from killing myself with all of the work we have to do. You’re my constant” Pete doesn’t voice it outloud, but he’s sure that he shouldn’t be Patrick’s constant, considering he’s sort of. Well, everywhere. He just nods, before wiping his face with his hands. Patrick kisses his forehead and Pete bites his lip in an effort to not cry at the touch. “I love you, alright?” Pete nods again, whispering it back “I love you too. Can we sleep now?”

A ghost of a smile appears on Patrick’s face, and he kisses Pete gently, before letting Pete turn on his back. “Y-you can say no, I know you’re tired” Pete murmurs, as Patrick listens “But can you sing something…for two seconds, I’ll fall asleep”

It reminds Patrick of sleeping in bunks and lulling Pete to sleep with his voice- Pete still struggles with insomnia, but he’s so worn out from the crying and the sex, he’s sure he can get a couple of hours in. He starts singing into Pete’s neck, something that Pete can’t place his finger on at the moment, but he doesn’t care, because Patrick’s holding him in his arms, and that’s all Pete really needs

**Author's Note:**

> this has to be the most random thing i've ever written in my life?? it's kind of all over the place and it makes no sense but it was practice because i wanted to write more smut, and i was listening to "cheap thrills" by sia and i'm not sure if its supposed to be sad but it made me sad so i just. wrote this. so ya i apologize that it kinda makes no sense/is probably shitty. i just havent written bottom pete since like. january.


End file.
